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Why I Love Kids

I LOVE kids. One of my favorite things about kids is all the comedic material they provide. I wasn’t really expecting that when I had my first child. She was really my first experience with babies. My sister was born when I was four, so I didn’t remember all the baby stuff and I only had one friend who had already started a family when I found out I was pregnant and she lived out of state. I had NO idea what to do with a baby.

The one thing I expected (from reading the thousands of books) was to hold this fragile little being like she was a brand new Balenciaga handbag.

{You know, the $1 million, platinum-dipped bag that you don’t want to breathe on, much less throw a wallet in}

HOWEVER, as soon as the doctor handed me a tiny, 6 pound baby girl she lifted her head and flared her nostrils. And I SWEAR she was looking right at me. That’s when I knew I had to re-evaluate all the books I’d spent the past 9 months reading.

Neither of my children had that floppy-head thing that most newborns have. And sometimes when they looked at me it was like they had the wisdom of Confucius with the body of Stewie Griffin {who my son channels every night with, “Mom, mommy, momma, mom, mom, mom, mooooom}.

My daughter did everything early. She was crawling at 5 months, walking well by 10 months. Naps??? What are those? I’ve been in a constant state of exhaustion for almost 7 years.

My son came out the size of a linebacker. His favorite thing to do as a baby was use his head as a weapon against my nose. {What did my nose ever do to you???} And he’ll take a nap if you drive him around in the car. Still not helpful in allowing me time to sleep as well.

My daughter is a ball of spirited energy. She’s impulsive and dramatic and independent and a born leader.

My son is a sensitive bulldozer. He is a tank, full-throttle, and physical but let his sister call him a name and he cries for two hours.

Both of my kids are hilarious. I’m not just saying that because they are my kids and I value hilarity. They are truly funny.

My daughter, Bella, has zero filter. Whatever pops into her head comes out of her mouth. (I hold my breath a LOT). She also loves performing. She’s been known to belt out “Let It Go” in the middle of Target for an impromptu concert.

What makes those qualities of hers exponentially awesome is that she frequently mispronounces words and butchers song lyrics.

Simple math (none of that Common Core crap)

Bella + (no impulse control * butchered song lyrics) = Erica (that’s me) pees her pants and almost dies from asphyxiation due to hysterically laughing

{Imagine hearing this monologue: Roman, did you know that Billy Wonka made that candy you’re eating? It’s true! Mom, did you see that quge queman on Happy Gilmert? It looks like he naybe has a bownero through his head athter that one part!}

My top 5 Bella-ized song lyrics:

Let it go, let it go, turn around and sit on the floor (from “Let it Go”)

All the singalets, all the singalets, all the singalets, all the singalets (from “All the Single Ladies”, obviously.)

My son, Roman, is incredibly head strong. He hates to be told “no”. He also likes to take on other personas. For example, Roman has been known to practice his WWE wrestling moves (declaring himself a “wrestler boy”) on his sister in Target (I feel really bad for others who happen to be in Target when we arrive).

The qualities that mesmerize me most about my Roman are his ability to effectively trash talk at the age of 3 and the expert way he keeps everyone guessing (who is he going to be today???).

I submit as evidence

My 5 favorite cut-downs delivered by Roman:

Mommy, you talk funny and I’m a clown.

{This is possibly the equivalent of calling someone a “mommy fudger” in his world. If you mock the way he says a word, he falls apart for days. And he thinks clowns are scary vampires that will strike fear in the Devil himself.}

Mommy, I don’t care if you put me in my cwib. I gonna climb out. Then I gonna open tha door and spank you.